the day

In the dark, I wait for the day to start.  

I wait for the thoughts to settle to the bottom of the bottle. 

Outside the sky crests.  A bowl of blues and grays with the rain leaking over the edges. 

What day is this? 

The summer has been a rabid dog hot and relentless.  So the coolness and the darkness of this morning feel like a lie. 

It seems summer will never end.  The fires have started.  Smoke fills the valley.  The sun turns red and the hillsides become charcoal.  Summer does not exit the west gracefully.

The day stretches.

Ahead of me, there is a lot to do coupled with the time if not the space to do it in.  There is no order to it.  I would even say it is all part of a long list I haven't sat down to write yet.  And I do, I want to write it before it is gone.- before the days write themselves.

I swear I can almost smell snow.  I can almost feel the cold of the desert wind wrapping around me.  Camp coffee and a field of juniper and sage. 

Silence.
Wind.
Trucks on a dirt road.

I am ready and so is the sky.